


The girl next door

by LegendaryDork



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 2020 in a nutshell, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, F/F, Feel-good, Fluff, Latina Catra (She-Ra), Oblivious Adora (She-Ra), One Shot, Pandemics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendaryDork/pseuds/LegendaryDork
Summary: A pandemic isn't necessarily the best time to make new friends, but the wracking cough Adora heard coming from her neighbor's place just couldn't be ignored. But some people are just meant to be- even if they have to stay 6 feet away.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 231





	The girl next door

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening cryptids and gentlethems. I'm finally back after a while with a cute fluffy pic, reviewed by the lovely [Amitola12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amitola12/pseuds/Amitola12)
> 
> Thank you my friend <3  
> And thanks to my friend Andi for the terrible dad jokes

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and _finally a break._

Adora huffed, a heavy bag of groceries in her arms. This pandemic was nasty enough that the gyms had to close, and Adora could feel her stamina gravely impacted by the last months not spending time weight lifting. It was for the greater good, as the news kept being more and more depressing. Still, she regretted living on the third floor today. But she was thankful she was just out of shape and not sick, at least.

Not like her neighbor.

Or the close-to-death-seal-sounding, barely-human presence that was her neighbor.

As Adora unlocked the door and the keys kept dancing and rattling, another horrible, raspy cough was heard next door. This outburst lasted too long – you would think three minutes mean nothing until you’re the host of this parasitic, painstaking outburst of mucus in your lungs. What Adora was worried about the most wasn’t the expectoration in itself, but the heavy breathing right after, those deep inhalations of the person that lived next door, making Adora think more of someone taking their breath after nearly drowning in water. She knocked gently at the door, mask still covering half of her face (nose included, unlike some _fools_ outside).

“Hey… Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance for you? Or anyone?”

“No. Go away.”

“Sir. You nearly died there.”

A faint, husky laugh resonated on the other side of the front door. Followed by a few more outbursts, before the voice with an accent Adora couldn’t recognize rose. “I know it doesn’t sound like it right now but I’m a woman.”

“Oh.”

_Oh_ , indeed. Adora felt her face warm up to her ears, a complete, silent mess. She hid her face in her bag of groceries, not knowing what to say to make it up to her neighbor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Catra.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Catra.”

“Oh.”

Another long, embarrassing silence followed, broken apart by a few more coughs. “No ambulance, no call to Mommy. You can go, thanks for offering.”

“Okay… Catra. I’ll check in with you tomorrow then.”

“No –” Catra started, but Adora’s door slammed slowly, announcing that she’d already left the floor landing.

-

“Good morning Catra,” Adora carefully knocked at Catra’s door the day after.

From what she could hear through those paper-thin walls (perks of living in a building with a cheap rent: you could hear _everything_ the neighbors would say or do) Catra had a rather rough night. The coughing didn’t really stop until 4AM, where a peaceful silence eventually took place.

Nobody answered after that first knock, so Adora tentatively insisted. “Catra?”

Still nothing.

“Catra if you don’t answer I’ll have to call –”

“I’m sleeping, you dimwit,” Catra complained, huffing under what seemed to be heavy covers. “Shitty night, haven’t you heard?”

“Oh… Yeah.”

“Do you have a name? Or I should call you _Oh_?”

“I’m Adora,” she answered with a shy smile.

“Nice to meet you Adora. Now let me sleep or I’ll be the one calling 911 on you.”

“Sure! I’m – on my way! Yeah, I’m leaving. Like, right now,” she started babbling. “See you around! – screw that, not _see you_ see you but you know –”

“Goodbye Adora.”

“Yep – Going! Bye!” Adora started walking back to her apartment, when an idea struck her like lightning would hit a clock, sending all its energy down a DeLorean rolling at 88 miles per hour.

Adora stopped right in her tracks and ran in her apartment. She hadn’t been that excited in a long while. And somehow, it felt so good to have that kind of energy kick back after all this time. _Oh Adora, you’re a genius,_ she said to herself, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, and started scratching down her plan on the piece of paper.

-

_Catra,_

_I know this is going to sound crazy but I’m really concerned about your well-being. I’m gonna go grocery shopping in a few days and can buy a few things for you, you must be starving. I’m going to be there to check on you everyday, more like around 6PM given that you don’t sound like a morning person. You know, so I don’t bother you._

_I’m also going to bring you dinner tonight, so I can be sure you’ll eat today._

_Here’s my number, so you can text me your grocery list and I’ll bring it to you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your neighbor Adora_

-

“Dammit… I don’t even know how to write anymore with that shitstorm outside,” Adora figured, looking at the wobbly loops of her handwriting. “Anyway, that’ll do.” she added, proud of herself, and walked away again to slide the piece of paper under the door, before turning back to her quarantine activities.

Workout in the morning, shower, a protein shake and channel surfing Netflix all afternoon long.

And, apparently today, a nap. Which was nice, obviously, until the annoying buzz of her phone woke her up.

+1 916-555-0138: Hey Adora.

Adora 🏋️♀️: Who is it?

+1 916-555-0138: The man from 307.

“HI CATRA!” Adora yelled at the wall with a knowing smile.

Catra 🤒: I thought the texts were to avoid the yelling.

Adora: You got me there

Adora: How can I help you?

Catra 🤒: The grocery list? I need a few things for my cat.

Adora: Aww you have a cat??

Catra 🤒: …

Catra 🤒: I don’t eat clumping litter so far as I know.

Adora scoffed. Of course the neighbor wouldn’t.

Adora: What else do you need?

Catra: A bottle of coca-cola, and a giant bag of churrumais porfa.

Adora: porfa?

Catra: Por favor, gringa.

Adora: Ah, yes, Spanish. The one class I never understood.

A long, throaty groan was heard next door, and Adora didn’t have to understand Spanish to know that her neighbor was (loudly) complaining about the blonde’s lack of skills in Spanish. She chuckled and checked the time. 3:35pm. Adora still had time to go grocery shopping for Catra, and she was glad she could actually move her legs a little today. She knew she shouldn’t go out, but it was necessary. And she forgot to buy eggs yesterday, so she had to go back to the store anyway.

Adora grabbed a new mask and her trusty tote bag – her favorite, with a winged unicorn design on it, with the quote “Well, that is stupid” – put on her running shoes matching her red jacket, and went on her way to the store.

Moments later, climbing up those _damned stairs_ again, she finally knocked, out of breath, on Catra’s door. “Hey Catra… I just came back with everything you wanted… Pff, I’m so out of shape…”

“Thanks Adora,” the hoarse voice answered in between coughs. “I’ll PayPal or Venmo the money I owe you, whatever shit you’re into”

“Sure, I’ll send you the link. Everything okay on your side?”

Another outburst occurred, way too long to Adora’s liking once again, before Catra answered “I’m perfectly fine, as you can hear.”

“Yeah… I’m totally making you dinner. See you there!” Adora grinned.

“Will saying no stop you?”

“Nope!” Adora retorted, her goofy grin almost hurting because of how wide it was. She already had everything she needed here, and she would get to work anyway.

“Promise me it won’t be too fancy please.”

“Pssht,” Adora brushed. “I’m not capable of fancy anyway. I only do comforting!”

“…Okay. I’ll text you and let you know how I found it then.”

Adora agreed, as it meant more texting with the mysterious neighbor.

When the time came to prepare dinner, Adora kept things rather seriously. Generally used to a healthy diet to keep her in shape for competition as a half marathon runner, she sort of let herself slide into an instant-ramen-and-raw-vegetables diet with this cursed lockdown thanks to covid, _the modern plague_ as her friends Glimmer and Bow called it. But today, she finally had a reason to spend a little more time in the kitchen today, and she decided to make a chicken ramen recipe, with a little more work than usual.

After Adora boiled two eggs and peeled them before putting them aside, she heated a saucepan with a drizzle of chili oil, grated a clove of garlic and a ginger root that she sautéed in the hot pan for a minute. The sizzling of these roots entering in contact with oil in itself was music to Adora’s ears, and she enjoyed the already-present aroma invading her kitchen – it brought her back to easier times, spending afternoons and afternoons with her grandma Razz cooking and baking on holidays, her mom Mara always around to try everything after her long shifts in the nearby hospital.

Adora smiled fondly at the memory, and added the chicken stock to deglaze her pan. She added soy sauce to her broth, and cracked some pepper before scraping the bottom of her pan with her wooden spatula. After she tasted her broth, she added a teaspoon of sugar and let the pan heat up. The amount of time for the pan to boil gave Adora enough time to shred the leftover chicken thigh she’d cooked the day before, added the shreds to the pan and threw a few sliced mushrooms that she topped with her instant ramen.

Once softened, she plated two bowls like they did in all those cooking TV shows – she put her pasta first, poured a generous amount of broth, added the shredded chicken to one side, the mushrooms on the other, added an egg halved and topped with lime juice, sesame seeds, chopped scallions and a crushed nori sheet. She covered one of the bowls with plastic wrap, added a whole lime wedged on it so Catra could decide if she would use it or not. Adora thought the broth was well-seasoned, and she could only hope the rest of the meal would follow. Suddenly nervous, she knocked on Catra’s door and let her know that dinner was ready and waiting before she ate hers watching Netflix in her quarters.

Minutes later, Adora found herself stuffed and happy. The ramen was good, and she was happy that it turned out better than usual. She thought it probably had to do with the good memories she’d linked to food, and the happiness of preparing something for someone instead of just for herself. Wrapped in her fluffy blanket, Adora dozed off watching _Ponyo_ that night.

She woke up in the middle of the night with a bunch of unread messages from Catra. She chuckled reading them and decided she would answer them in the morning.

[Okay how old are you? Because marry me, Adora.

This was the best ramen I've ever had.

Where did you learn how to cook??

Where have you been all my life???

Not knowing how old you are makes me want to know more about you, by the way.

Sweet dreams for now, Spanish Inquisition later.]

And for two weeks, the two women got to know a little more about each other: that Adora was a Physical Therapy major, close to graduating, an athlete, with way too much time with her own thoughts. Catra and Adora were both 25, following online classes, Catra was an Education major with an English minor – and apparently a part-time dancer. Which was _really_ interesting to Adora. It apparently was merengue, which reminded Adora of the white, sweet delicacy, except this time it seemed to be a sensual dance. That was probably nicer than the dessert made of egg whites and sugar.

While Adora was still in contact with her family members, Catra grew up in an orphanage in the Dominican Republic and immigrated for a better life in the U.S., which proved to be true until that cursed virus hit. She had apparently caught Covid-19 when someone she qualified as _a cabrón_ (and Adora heard that insult in Orange Is The New Black, so she knew it was bad) removed his mask and sneezed on her when she removed hers to sip her coffee. She bitterly regretted going to Starbucks that day, and hated people apparently even more than before.

For sure, Catra seemed to be a grumpy one, which was funny and cute according to Adora. The blue-eyed woman would make sure to make fun of her neighbor everyday for that, reading her extracts of books with a brooding character that reminded her of Catra. The idea came out when Adora was rereading Carmilla – and found the vampire close to Catra’s temper.

Adora started reading stories to Catra out loud starting that day.

“ _There soon, however, appeared some drawbacks. In the first place, Millarca complained of extreme languor—the weakness that remained after her late illness—and she never emerged from her room till the afternoon was pretty far advanced. In the next place, it was accidentally discovered, although she always locked her door on the inside, and never disturbed the key from its place till she admitted the maid to assist at her toilet, that she was undoubtedly sometimes absent from her room in the very early morning, and at various times later in the day, before she wished it to be understood that she was stirring. She was repeatedly seen from the windows of the schloss, in the first faint grey of the morning, walking through the trees, in an easterly direction, and looking like a person in a trance. This convinced me that she walked in her sleep. But this hypothesis did not solve the puzzle. How did she pass out from her room, leaving the door locked on the inside? How did she escape from the house without unbarring door or window?_

“ _In the midst of my perplexities, an anxiety of a far more urgent kind presented itself._

“ _My dear child began to lose her looks and health, and that in a manner so mysterious, and even horrible, that I became thoroughly frightened._

“ _She was at first visited by appalling dreams; then, as she fancied, by a specter, sometimes resembling Millarca, sometimes in the shape of a beast, indistinctly seen, walking round the foot of her bed, from side to side._

“ _Lastly came sensations. One, not unpleasant, but very peculiar, she said, resembled the flow of an icy stream against her breast. At a later time, she felt something like a pair of large needles pierce her, a little below the throat, with a very sharp pain. A few nights after, followed a gradual and convulsive sense of strangulation; then came unconsciousness._ ”

Catra groaned louder than usual that day, and Adora chuckled everytime Catra voiced her annoyance. This was funny, and both women apparently had an amazing time, because the following night, Catra – half ashamed – asked Adora for more stories to lull her to sleep. The neighbor tried to justify herself saying she had a hard time falling asleep with her lungs hurting that bad, her brain racing all this time, and that the monotone, annoying voice of Adora helped her more than those boring podcasts she would usually listen to at night.

Adora secretly liked it, and started reading more to this Grumpy Cat reincarnated into the woman next door from that day.

Weeks passed, Catra felt better and better, but none of their habits changed. They would text each other everyday, talk to each other through the paper-thin walls, share jokes and send memes as a way of communication. Adora became increasingly nervous. What if Catra didn’t need her anymore and would stop talking? What if… _What if she left any other day?_

  
  


That’s when Adora realized.

She realized her neighbor was a friend – a _good_ friend – but not just a friend apparently.

Adora pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezing shut. That was going to make things worse, more awkward. The worst in that moment? It’s that they hadn’t even _met_. The blonde sighed, frustrated. “A dumb jock lesbian,” she hid her face in her hands. “That’s all you are, Adora.”

  
  


More time passed in the building with the same daily routine for the two young women, until one evening someone knocked at Adora’s door. She frowned, not expecting any visit. The landlord would’ve signaled a possible visit, her mom and grandma were too far away to risk traveling in an actual pandemic, and she’d keep contact with her friends Glimmer and Bow on Skype every morning – to Glimmer’s great despair. So when she woke up, she didn’t care switching her old sweatpants and mismatched socks to something more presentable, nor did she bother brush her hair, as messy as it currently was, or change from her stained university t-shirt. When she opened the door, the only thing her brain would let her do was freeze at the unfamiliar face.

“Hey, Adora.”

_Catra_ , Adora instantly recognized the voice she’d conversed with for weeks. And _holy shit_ , was her neighbor gorgeous. The most striking feature were Catra’s eyes, one emerald blue with traces of green around the pupil, and the second – to Adora’s surprise – was a golden-like hazel. Heterochromatic eyes were rare enough to be spotted, but Catra’s gaze was enhanced by her smooth olive skin, her freckles dispatched on her naturally radiant face and a smirk that would make anyone fall for the smaller woman.

And that included Adora.

Catra had long, wavy curls that framed her rather angular face, and _God_ , Adora didn’t know she could be even gayer, but there she was. The not-so-mysterious neighbor was dressed in a large white sweater and skinny jeans, and holding a tupperware in her perfectly manicured hands, the black nail polish applied in a flawless manner.

Yes, Catra would definitely be either a goddess or a mirage, a dream maybe, if her own mismatched socks didn’t anchor her in reality somehow.

Adora kept staring, red as a tomato, jaw wide open, until Catra smiled even brighter.

“I figured I could cook something for you, you know,” now it was Catra’s turn to blush slightly, and Adora was ready to die right here, right now. “since you’ve taken care of me all month long. I made you pasteles en hoja con cerdo and you have a tiny box of chicharrón too.”

Adora grabbed the tupperware that was almost forced into her hands. “I have no idea what that is.”

Catra chuckled. “It’s not much, just food that brings me back home. I hope you like it,” the brunette added. “I should go back to my place before Melog starts eating in my plate.” The gorgeous woman winked at Adora before she turned back to her apartment, and the blonde could swear Catra was swaying her hips on purpose.

When she was sure the door next to hers clicked, she walked back to her couch, threw herself in it, and grabbed her phone.

Best Friend Squad

Adora: GAYS

Adora: I’M GUY

Glimmer: tell me sth i don’t know

Bow: Good afternoon, Adora! we’re fine, thanks! How about you?

Adora: SHE

Glimmer: bow i think she’s broken

Bow: No Glim she’s just gay

Bow: She’ll be fine

Adora: She made me food guys

Adora: I think I’m in love

Glimmer: is it _that_ good?

Adora took a bite of each, taking her time to taste and enjoy each bite – bringing her to the obvious conclusion that _yes, it IS that good._

Adora: I think I’m crying

Glimmer: pic or it didnt hapn

_Adora transferred the file 121958588_3626267397384521_4199136041150844454_n.jpg_

Glimmer: WAIT YOUR CRYING

Bow: WHAT IS THIS SORCERY

Glimmer: I WANT THAT FOOD

Bow: ME TOO

Adora: NO

The trio talked for a solid hour before Glimmer and Bow had to go. Adora didn’t stop bragging about how good the food tasted to Catra, telling her that it somehow tasted like a warm and sunny day and like her mouth was dancing – making the Latina proud of herself.

Days passed and Adora learned more about Catra. That she was really cocky when it came to things the brunette was skilled at, and incredibly anxious when she didn’t know that much. Her anxiety could show in several forms: Catra would either look anywhere but in Adora’s eyes, she would gnaw at her lower lip, or she would scratch her wrists frenetically.

Catra was generally a night owl, had insomnia most nights and would look at the sky often, ruminating past mistakes and finding comfort in the silence of the night, reminiscing old, happy memories.

When Catra was happy, she would usually dance and trot around Adora, laugh loudly and make terrible jokes.

Catra adopted Melog, a special needs cat, years ago in a shelter because she knew how it felt like to be ignored just for being different. And also because she was secretly _terrified_ of mice and rats. But that “wasn’t the reason”, or whatever she wanted to believe to sleep better at night.

The brunette grew up in a miserable orphanage, and started working at 14 to afford a life in the US.

She actually worked so hard in the Dominican Republic and in the US that she was offered a scholarship.

Catra was seeing a therapist after several traumatic experiences she didn’t want to talk about, and that was okay.

She was a master at chess and any other strategy game – she even played ranked games during her free time but thought of it as a hobby, not believing in her potential.

Adora didn’t agree at all.

She liked to speak Spanish to comment on something with her heart, or to sing under the shower, as paper-thin walls proved yet again.

She once laughed really hard at Adora saying she didn’t like _chile_ , an Catra answered “Neither do I”. Adora still doesn’t understand why, but Catra’s laugh sounded like a harmonious melody to Adora’s ears.

She and Adora shared a meal at least twice a week, usually on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Her favorite meals seemed to be centered around plantains and spicy salsas Adora could barely handle, and Catra laughed everytime, retorting it “wasn’t even spicy”.

Catra smelled like bergamot and lavender. Her skin was soft and smooth and Adora felt a jolt of electricity at the unexpected contact between the two women – Catra had stopped Adora from stumbling on the HDMI cable linking the TV to Adora’s laptop.

They were now grocery shopping together, Catra keeping her mask at all times, wearing single-use gloves, washing her hands before and after, sanitizing her hands an obscene amount of times when they were both outside, and she took time to sanitize, remove any unwelcomed packagings when she could and set aside the vegetables that could be washed, taking the matter even more seriously than before.

Catra was really friends with two girls named Scorpia and Entrapta. Scorpia was apparently dating Perfuma and, surprisingly, Perfuma used to date Bow years ago. That’s how Catra and Adora discovered they had some friends in common, which made them both laugh and planning bar expeditions when the world would be ready to handle that kind of chaos downtown.

Catra’s smile had a barely noticeable dimple, and one of her canines seemed to show up everytime she was smug about something.

Last but not least, Adora had a deep crush on her neighbor. She didn’t seem to be bothered by this fact, though.

  
  
  


“So, what do you have planned for Christmas this year Catra?” Adora asked.

“Probably watch Bridget Jones and get drunk by myself with that bottle of _ron à la Catra_ ,” she answered, proud of herself, making herself bigger, stiffer, head high and shoulders going back.

Adora chuckled. “And what would ron à la Catra mean? Rum and too much spices for poor little me?”

Catra joined the blonde’s chuckles, adding “Why don’t you come and find out?” with a cheeky grin.

“Actually,” Adora answered with a sudden knot in her stomach, “I’m going to spend the night videocalling with my mom.”

“Oh,” Catra’s sad smile and immediate wet eyes looking at the ceiling could scream everything the brunette didn’t say. “I guess I’ll have to make more ron for next time you care to join me!”

Adora gulped, uneasiness gaining her. She knew Mara was really family-centered and liked to spend as much time as possible catching up with Adora on this very special occasion. But she couldn’t let Catra be on her own, especially with one whole bottle of rum all for herself, on a celebration like this one. Adora kept thinking, picking a night with her mom – something that probably happens once a year – or spending it with the lonely girl she spent most of her time with for the past ten months. She didn’t want to pick one or the other, and couldn’t in any case. So she decided on something that should’ve been obvious, and cursed herself for not thinking about it sooner.

“How about we spend it together skyping with my mom? You could meet her that way, after all the times I’ve been talking about her. I know how it feels to know about someone but not being able to put a face on them at the same time,” she added.

Why was this proposition so stressful all of the sudden? And why were Adora’s hands so sweaty now? She wasn’t even moving!

Catra gasped, lowering her head this time. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to sacrifice the little time you have with your mom. And we see each other all the time now.”

Without thinking, Adora brushed Catra’s chin with the tip of her fingers and pulled Catra’s face in a gentle manner to cross the brunette’s sad and hopeful eyes. Seeing Catra so vulnerable made Adora’s heart burn ache, but she couldn’t decipher whether it was sadness, hope or something else that made it hurt so much. “Of course. And after the videocall with my mom is over we can watch Bridget Jones together and get drunk on that booze you made and regret everything the day after.”

Catra smiled, and this time her mesmerizing eyes lit up with a spark of something Adora thought was relief. “You promise?”

“I promise,” the blonde offered reassuringly.

The tension in the room loosened, Catra relaxing helping Adora let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

The week before Christmas dinner, Catra and Adora decided they would prepare a nice meal together, and tried to decide on the menu they would make for the two of them. After hours of debates, complaints and strategizing (Catra brushed away Adora’s graphs, which made her mad. _How about the ratios of booze to food to know how drunk they could be?_ ), the two women agreed on a few course meal. The starter would be a series of canapés, or Catra’s fancy words to talk about toasted bread with three declinations of vegetables and meats spread on it. The first sort would be what Catra called _tapenade_ (Adora called that, and she thought she was right, an olive and anchovy grub), the second would be a classic guacamole, and the last one would be goat cheese with a drizzle of honey and a fresh walnut kernel on it. The two women agreed that the main course would be a piece of roasted turkey breast with gravy, the classical mashed potatoes that went along with it, and for dessert the two gourmets agreed easily on a chocolate cake with a red berry sauce. Booze would obviously be part of the fancy meal, and they both agreed on a bottle of red wine as they went grocery shopping for this special day. And, once Mara would say goodbye and leave, the rum Catra spiced up for the special occasion.

When the time came to cook, last minutessing groceries bought in a rush by a certain blonde who’d forgotten the herbs Catra had asked for, both girls worked well together, sharing the chores of chopping, spreading pastes on toast, roasting and cooking everything as best as they could. It wasn’t perfect, but they weren’t chefs and they were proud of themselves, Catra for making everything on time so she could get ready, and Adora for not setting the kitchen on fire.

Adora had fun dressing up to the nines, finding it weird to wear normal clothes again. The table was set with a white tablecloth and fake silver candles with golden empty plates and cutlery. Christmas songs were playing in the back to bring the girls into the mood, a fireplace was projected on the TV, adding blank sounds to make the place warm and cozy, the Christmas tree was illuminated and had several gift packages in the bottom, some the girls bought for each other, others shipped by Mara and their friends. She was now waiting for Catra before starting the meal, which gave her the opportunity to chat alone with her mom in the meantime.

The two spent what felt like only ten minutes catching up with each other, Mara visibly exhausted physically and mentally from her shifts. She was a retired nurse but had decided volunteering in the seniors’ residence close to her home, and Adora wouldn’t admit how worried she was, but she was proud of her mom for doing such a selfless gesture for people she didn’t really know. It felt so good to catch up after all this time, and Adora swore to herself she would text her more often.

  
  


The soft knock on Adora’s door announced Catra’s arrival. Adora shouted “You can come in!” with a smile, and looked at her screen to introduce her mom to her neighbor and friend.

What Adora didn’t expect, though, was how Catra (and how was it possible? _)_ being even more goddess-like than usual. Never prone to everyday makeup, Catra liked to use her face as a blank canvas on special occasions to enhance her natural beauty with powders and creams and other features too foreign to Adora to remember their names. Catra put a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing bright light earrings – _not with one but_ _two pairs!_ – hanging on the smaller woman’s lobes. She had her eyebrows brushed surprisingly more perfect than usual and cat’s eyes drawn with a trait of eyelinereye liner sharper than any blade Adora could think of, having the blonde lost in these beguiling eyes. Catra’s lips were darkened by a dark chocolate lipstick, making her radiant smile lit up even brighter at the sight of Adora in a burgundy tuxedo, matching accidentally with the brunette’s deep crimson dress.

Adora cursed her gayness even more when she became aware of the tightly fitting dress in question, embracing each and any of Catra’s delightful curves, revealing her impeccable skin and _dare Adora say sexy_ collarbones. And she wouldn’t comment on that _very hot_ choker Catra was rocking.

The brunette had apparently stolen one of Adora’s long sleeved shirts, so large for her smaller physique the cream cloth was falling, revealing Catra’s bare back and its constellation of moles, sleeves rolled up to reveal the countless freckles on Catra’s forearms. The elegant woman phrased her signature “Hey, Adora” and made her way to sit next to the blonde, high heels tapping confidently on the floor, making it sound like it was an effortless exercise to her.

“Nice to meet you Mrs Grayskull,” Catra sang with a shy smile, waving at the screen. “It’s a delight to finally put a face on someone’s name, and I see where Adora got her signature grin from.”

When Adora finally looked at the screen to make the presentations, all she could see was Catra’s interpretation of a masterpiece illuminated by the Christmas lights, her own face redder than peonies and her mom’s smirk with a knowing gaze aimed at her daughter.

“Likewise Catra, I hope you’ve heard of me in a good way!” Mara answered and chuckled.

Time passed and the dinner turned out to be a delicious culinary adventure for them, sharing jokes, cute anecdotes about baby Adora, recipes and cooking tips and lovely comments altogether. Between the main course and dessert, Catra excused herself for a minute, leaving mother and daughter alone.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. I’m happy for you two.”

Adora’s face burned up all of the sudden. “Mom, she’s not – Ugh you’re insufferable!”

The blonde hid her face in her palms, Mara bursting with laughter.

“Oh are we messing with Adora?” Catra yelped coming out of the kitchen, sitting back with two slices of warm chocolate cake, ready to take her turn into roasting the blonde with Mara, their newly found bonding activity.

Past midnight, the cake long ago wolfed down, a tipsy Mara wished the two women a good night, reminding Catra how much of a pleasure it was to finally meet her, and told Adora “I like that one” before she said goodbye and closed Skype. This had been a lot to the blonde athlete, but the girls made it and they’d spent a good night.

“So… This was my mom. She likes you,” Adora said, clearing the table.

“I like her too. She’s a good mom,” Catra answered. “Now Cariño, I’ll go get the booze. Don’t wash the dishes, we’ll do that tomorrow. Just go get comfy on the couch – no pants allowed,” she added, winking.

Adora giggled. The brunette knew how much the no pants policy was important in Adora’s apartment, preferring shorts and sweatpants to everyday clothing.

Once the table cleared, Adora changed into her pajamas and wrapped herself in a fluffy blanket, movie ready to be started. Catra arrived, in her pajamas as well, bottle of rum in one hand, chocolate in the other.

One can never go wrong watching the Bridget Jones Diary, and Catra decided to spice up the game and have a shot every time Bridget swears, there’s someone drinking or smoking, everytime she felt embarrassed for Bridget, and everytime there were ugly clothes – and after the first fifteen minutes, Adora decided to join Catra’s drinking game. Promising the two ladies to be completely drunk by the end of the movie – which happened.

The two girls debated for a part of the night whether or not they would become Bridget or if they already were her. They laughed some more, and sang “All by myself” along with the movie, having a lot of fun.

“Man I miss parties,” Adora mumbled. “Getting drunk and dancing with my friends and singing out loud in nightclubs.”

Catra chuckled. “I can’t bring you friends for now but we can have the sticky floor and the sweet buzz of drunkenness and dance together and regret everything tomorrow.”

“That’s – actually a good idea,” Adora blinked.

Catra’s face brightened, and asked “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered what merengue was about anyway.”

Catra’s hopeful face turned into a cocky grin. “Me gusta cuando me hablas así Guapa!” she said, suddenly loud again, and grabbed her phone to play a random mix of Latin music. The rhythm was rather quick, but Catra put the mix on pause took the time to explain the most basic steps to Adora. “I’ll lead, you follow. Ready? We’ll go without music first.”

“No, but do I really have a choice?”

“Nope!” the brunette retorted. _Revenge is apparently a meal best served cold_ , Adora noticed. Catra held Adora’s hand and shoulder.

“One, two, three, four…” they moved in sync, “…five, six, seven, eight. You’re dancing merengue Adora!” Catra beamed with pride.

“I can’t believe it. You’re making me dance, and I haven’t crushed your feet yet,” the blonde hid her face in her lead’s shoulder in a faux exasperation. “I’ll need more liquid courage before we got on making a fool out of me.”

“Deal.”

Adora take a _large_ gulp of rum, the music started and Catra showed a few steps on her own first, before she grabbed Adora’s hands and started moving.

“Remember, only your lower body moves. Sway your hips and follow my lead.”

Adora nodded, the fast paced music leading Catra’s body to a sudden trance. The two women swirled and grinned at each other, Adora pulled back and forth in Catra’s strong and slender arms. The frenetic music went on and the buzz in Adora’s head heightened the more she was swirled around. But she didn’t feel sick – she felt happy and loved being at Catra’s mercy for the time of a languorous dance, their bodies closer than ever. She would lie if she told anyone Catra’s leg between hers didn’t make her feel _very aware_ of how close they were, and being toyed with in such an expert manner revealed Catra’s sense of rhythm and sensuality. The blonde let herself go in Catra’s arms the fever not vanishing, and they kept dancing until the end of the song, leaving them panting, red, and a little sweaty.

“You’re a gringa but you know how to dance,” Catra grinned, clearly impressed.

“I have a good teacher,” Adora answered happily. “Thanks for the dance.”

“You could join the classes I follow when everything’s back to normal.”

“I’ll consider it, I have other plans,” Adora answered with a smug face, an eyebrow raised.

“And what would that be? Save the world Supergirl style?” Catra teased.

“If I tell you, I’ll lose my aura of mystery. You’ll see in due time,” a pair of blue eyes winked at curious blue and hazel ones.

“Ay, okay!” Catra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, pouting.

Adora looked lovingly at her for a moment, and had to think of something to say before her eyes betrayed her. “Thanks for tonight, Catra. This is the best Christmas night I’ve had in a long time.”

“Thanks to you Adora. This is my best Christmas ever and I am having a blast,” she answered, holding Adora’s hand in hers.

The blonde blushed harder at the contact, her calloused hands finding comfort in smooth, perfectly manicured one. “No – no problem.”

“It’s getting late,” Catra realized. “I should probably go and let you rest.”

_Catra, I want to stay with you_.

“I’ll knock at your door when I wake up, I have your gift back in my apartment.”

_Stay, please?_

Adora acknowledged the visit with a smile, and found her brain freezing again when Catra kissed her cheek with soft, voluptuous lips in a gentle manner. The kiss felt like it lasted seconds and faded too fast to Adora’s liking, leaving her in a puddle of weird, warm feelings in her stomach.

The brunette opened the door and turned back to look at Adora one last time before closing the door, and the blonde wondered if her rosy cheeks were remnants of her makeup of if she was blushing.

“Good night Adora,” she added in a low voice.

“Catra?” Adora finally asked, stopping the smaller woman in her tracks and turning her entire body towards Adora.

“Yes?”

 _Staystaystaystay_.

“Have a good night, I…” _I love you_. “I can’t wait to be tomorrow.”

Catra gave Adora a smile she’d never seen before, and nodded. “If you can’t wait for your gift you can always come and get it now, you dummy.”

“No, that’s – I’ll let you sleep. Melog is probably tearing your curtains apart as we speak anyway, and I don’t wanna see you yell in Spanish. Too scary.”

“Probably,” Catra remembered with a dramatic face. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked in a hopeful tone.

“…Yeah, tomorrow.”

Catra closed Adora’s door behind her, leaving the blonde with her thoughts, cursing herself for not making a move.

That night, Adora was the one with insomnia, stealing the role to Catra.

Adora watched the sun rise from her window, and, deciding she would try and sleep after seeing Catra, grabbed her jacket to buy herself some comfort food. The three floors up and down were definitely worth the sugar rush a few doughnuts would inject in her veins.

Her sweet box of chewy antidote against moping in hand, she made her way back to her place when Catra’s door opened.

“My, Catra, aren’t you up early today.”

“It’s 11AM.”

“You usually don’t show up before 2PM, sweetie,” Adora retorted. “Did I make too much noise again?” she asked, more seriously.

“No. I heard a plastic box,” she answered, her gaze moving from Adora’s blue eyes to the doughnut box back and forth.

“Oh, this?” Adora moved the box, Catra’s hypnotized eyes following the sweets. She chuckled and kneeled down, opening the box. “Catra, will you take a bite?”

The dorky gesture would at least make Catra laugh at the blonde’s foolish act of flirting dumb jock style.

And it did, which made Adora proud of herself.

The mutual gifts were exchanged – they’d promised each other funny and cheap gifts with a lot of meaning, and Catra had gifted her a Spanish learner’s exercise book, which made her laugh. Adora had decided on giving her Le Fanu’s novella _Carmilla_ , much to Catra’s despair. She complained about it all day, but Adora could only notice the happy smile hidden behind the numerous verbal jousts.

That afternoon, Adora fell asleep on her couch exhausted, feeling content and cared for.

  
  


Cold shivers running down her spine woke her up, and her head felt heavy, but she was too tired to do something about it. Adora grabbed a bottle of water and headed to bed, happy to slide into its warmth.

But she didn’t feel better in the morning – on the contrary. Adora’s head felt heavier than the night before, and she felt sore. Nothing too worrying, she probably overworked the past few days. Things would get better soon.

Funny thing she thought that, because Adora didn’t feel better the following day. Actually, she felt cold and sore and dizzy all the time, shivering and teeth chatting, a cold sweat tainting her clothes. Catra was concerned, and checked up daily on Adora by text message, refusing to visit because “what if it was covid”, an argument the blonde brushed away because, _duh_ , she wasn’t coughing. It was probably just a cold. Or the flu.

When on the third day Adora woke up with a sore throat, she made herself some tea with honey for breakfast, not hungry at all. She’d survived with Christmas leftovers so far, and there was still plenty of instant ramen, but just thinking about food made her nauseous without knowing why.

That day, she choked on her tea and coughed, spilling the hot beverage on her coffee table.

“That’s it! We’re both taking the covid test,” Catra yelled from her own apartment, and Adora couldn’t understand _how_ her neighbor had heard that.

 _Ah, yes. Carton walls_ , she remembered.

But she was exhausted and too tired to move anywhere, and it was cold outside anyway. And her couch was so cozy. The doctor could wait.

Adora closed her eyes and fell asleep on her couch, too comfy to move away. Netflix running in the back sounded like a lullaby to her ears.

Adora had a weird dream that day – _that night?_ – she dreamed she was Supergirl, but with a sword. She was saving the world with her friends Bow and Glimmer and she was also a _princess_ . It was nice. Her hair was floating by itself and she could _fly_ in space. It was really cool. She was flying and had just saved Catra from a bad guy with like four eyes with the weird greenish color of energy drinks.

 _Catra_ , Adora giggled. She was the best and she was mean at chess. Adora hugged herself in a fetal position in her bedsheets, happily thinking about the cute girl next door.

Her dream went on. She’d saved the galaxy from Monster Energy Guy, and blushed when dream-Catra told her she was hot. Adora felt bold enough to answer “you’re the hot one” and shenanigans followed, a fond reverie Adora would keep for herself and cherish forever.

Adora felt like she was in a spaceship with her best friends and Catra that day, conquering space and calling the shots for a peaceful world. The dreams faded shortly after that, and Adora felt happy and so, so tired that her dream-persona fell asleep too.

That sort of comfort was tricky. Adora didn’t want to wake up, sleeping was too nice. And she didn’t want to come back to the real world, deal with adult stuff like her classes, the pandemic, the horror show that was 2020, or wear pants. She felt too comfy like that. All she needed more was…

“Adora por favor –”

_Catra._

“…I’ve got you, I’m not letting go –”

It was so odd. Spanish and English were mixing up there. _Funny_ , Adora smiled. She wanted to embrace Catra so hard, but she was so tired. The blonde didn’t want to open her eyes, feeling in that drowsy state between slumber and awakening. It felt, weirdly… Too late? As if time and space were demanding Adora she sleeps for days and days.

 _My body is betraying me…_ Adora thought. She wanted to stay around Catra’s comforting voice. But her strange weakness wouldn’t give up on her, this parasitic presence bossing her around. Dozing off again, she felt guilty for failing Catra like that, somehow.

  
  


\--- Catra’s POV

“…Adora, please! You have to wake up!” Catra begged. “You can’t give up…”

It felt like Catra was sentenced to death by a thousand cuts. Painstaking, slow and leaving her helpless, unable to do anything to change that. The day before, concerned by Adora’s lack of response, she knocked, repeatedly, then yelled and banged at her neighbor’s door. Adora couldn’t relax herself to sleep, and would wake up to any unusual sound. So when Adora remained silent, Catra decided to force the lock, and searched the room. Adora’s absence in her living room could only mean she was in her bedroom, since the bathroom door was wide open. Catra rushed there and saw Adora, her pale face bearing a blueish tone, eyes darkened with circles underneath. Her ragged breath indicated her struggle to breathe, and her white, shivering lips were trembling with cold, teeth chatting together.

Catra checked Adora’s temperature with the back of her hand, suddenly gasping.

“Shit, you’re so hot!”

Adora chuckled, and Catra couldn’t believe it. That _stupid, beautiful_ woman interpreted _this_ , of all things, as flirting. That dumb blonde jock was oblivious to Catra’s _real flirting lines_ , but somehow, when the Latina was serious for once, that idiot flirted back.

“No, your skin is burning dummy!”

“Your dummy,” Adora chuckled in her feverish delirium.

And when Catra called 911, Adora was sent in the ambulance and she followed the dumb blonde. She bitterly regretted it when she was told by the doctor both had contracted Covid-19, and saw in Adora’s file she’d _borrowed_ – estúpido didn’t want to tell her anything because she “wasn’t family”, _as if family was everything_ – that the taller woman needed oxygen in her critical state. Catra had been infected to a lesser extent given she had already fought the virus in the past and was stronger this time, in addition to still being at the very first days of infection.

Still, the medical staff wouldn’t let them go until they’d run a few more tests on Adora, waiting for a family member to say something or for the blonde to voice her wish to leave. And here they were, isolated together in a room. Catra was free to go and waiting for someone to catch her and demand her to pay for the PCR test they’d imposed on her. They’d have to look for her first, and they were overwhelmed, so she stayed as much as she could with Adora.

Catra stroked the woman’s blonde hair gently. Adora was damp with sweat, fighting that nasty fever she’d caught, but Catra didn’t care.

“You have never given up on anything in your life. Not even on me,” the brunette muffled.

She didn’t forget how sweet Adora had been from the beginning, checking on her everyday, texting her and making sure Catra was surviving the virus. Bringing her food and groceries, reading her a story that reminded her of Catra every other night.

Adora’s cerulean eyes beaming with liveliness, Adora’s terrible jokes that made the brunette groan everytime she would hear them, and secretly asking for more of those terrible puns. She remembered Adora asking about her well-being everytime Catra was too silent, trying to moderate Catra’s temper whenever she was being rude to strangers who wouldn’t wear masks in the street, still letting those savages know they would save lives if they would wear them properly.

She remembered that specific night when she’d been silently crying for something silly, feeling melancholic about being an orphan, Adora being incredibly lucky to have a mom that cared about her, and that emotional bond between these two had made Catra feel miserable and lonely, only reminiscing the _awful_ nun Weaver manipulating the children, using force when she esteemed that they needed to be taught a lesson, and to repent in the eyes of God. On that night, Adora had noticed Catra’s unusual silence, and noticing Catra’s strange behavior, only showed up with a homemade blueberry pie – her grandma’s recipe – and one of the Sharknado movies. Adora didn’t ask for an explanation, she didn’t ask if the smaller woman was okay. She didn’t impose herself for that night. She only offered those, and told Catra she was there if she needed to talk, just a door away. The muscular blonde left after that, Catra being the one to decide what she wanted – or not.

This was the first time Catra let herself fall in love a little more with her neighbor Adora.

The following times were hidden in the everyday routine they were sharing together. Catra enjoyed watching Adora work out everyday, lift weights and stretch while she was practicing her dance steps and flexibility.

She had her heart bump everytime Adora would make that smug smile, teasing and flirting with Catra, turning that cocky face into a sheepish grin, face red as a tomato, when the brunette flirted back.

Catra adored Adora’s love language – the blonde showed her appreciation with small gestures and gifts, offering food most of the times, sharing memes and using awful pick-up lines on her. Adora wasn’t a woman of many words, but she cared deeply about her friends, about her mom, and always made sure equal chances were offered to anyone who crossed her path.

Adora had many times given a part of her food to the homeless people when the girls went back to their quarters with a bag of groceries, sacrificing a snack here and some bread there, and she didn’t seem to care that she’d given a part of her money to a total stranger by giving them food – she just wanted the people passing by to be happy, or happier.

Adora was a fighter, facing her inner battles and self-consciousness, fighting for everyone’s rights, giving the people surrounding her a voice, and always willing to listen and learn when she didn’t know about a topic.

That dumb blonde jock had a bigger heart than any one else’s according to Catra, and she saw how that could undermine her soldier’s morale – and always tried her best to show Adora the support she deserved.

Catra never forgot Adora talking for hours about her favorite movies and comics, about her best childhood memories. That gringa had completely accepted her in her life, sharing her heart with her neighbor on door 307.

Catra, the ever-apparent sunshine, was terrified of people approaching her – her heart broken over and over by people with bad intentions – Sister Weaver, that one ex who took advantage of Catra’s kindness, resulting in Catra closing herself off of other potential romantic interests, and all these times she’d been catcalled in the evening, coming back from her dance lessons.

Adora had seen all of Catra’s walls, and crushed them one by one, leaving Catra more vulnerable than ever. This had scared the smaller woman enough to try and take a step back from Adora’s life, but that stupid, sweet blonde was always considerate and cute and understanding.

That sweet, dorky blonde with a smile brighter than the moonlight, stealing Catra’s bittersweet heart instantly on the day she met her neighbor on room 305.

Adora, usually full of life and loud (even when she was silent, her heavy steps would signal her presence, not that Catra minded) was reduced to that weak, pale figure framed by the hospital bed.

“Don’t you dare start now…” Catra sobbed, caressing Adora’s cheek in the most gentle manner she could, afraid of breaking her somehow. Feeling tears threatening to run down her cheeks again, she stood up and kissed Adora’s forehead.

Catra’s Christmas night at Adora’s had been magical. Adora was wearing that tux kissing her muscular body perfectly to Catra’s delight. She’d overheard Mara talk about her as Adora’s girlfriend, and although it would’ve scared her off months ago, she loved the sound of it.

“You better stay,” she threatened.

Suddenly, Adora’s pulse slowed down, filling the room with frantic beeps and flashes.

A swarm of white shadows with yellow gloves surrounded Adora, trying to pull Catra away. But the stubborn woman clung to the bedsheets, screaming “¡No! ¡No! Te tengo – No te dejaré ir – ¿No lo entiendes? ¡Yo te amo! Siempre lo he hecho. Por favor esta vez – ¡Quédate! ¡Quédate Adora!” as two nurses pulled her out of the room.

“What are you doing here? You speak English? Ingles?!”

“Are you serious?! You forgot me in that room mama guevo!”

“You have to leave now! I won’t repeat myself,” the rude nurse warned, grasping Catra’s forearm and squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise, stopping her from going back to Adora’s room.

Catra made a sound that resembled a feral snarl and made her way to pay for that useless exam she’d been through, and left before they’d charge her with tranquilizers and any other intervention they’d make on the people she would have a mean fight with.

\--- Adora’s POV

When Adora opened her eyes, everything felt odd around her. The white walls of her bedroom seemed brighter than usual, colder. The loud beeps echoed in her head, making it buzz even more. _Where… Am I?_

Someone rushed next to her, holding her wrist.

“Catra?”

“Hello, Adora. Do you recognize where we are?”

_Why does she sound so weird…?_

The pair of blue eyes scanned the room, and, too, tired, closed again with a long sigh.

“You’re in the hospital, you’re fine.” Oh really _now?_ “I have some questions. How do you feel right now?”

“Like a truck rolled over my body.”

The mysterious person chuckled, checking Adora’s vitals.

“Where’s Catra?”

“Your girlfriend couldn’t stay in the ICU, my co-worker had to prevent her to crash in your room as we were patching you up – hey, stay with me Adora – how are you feeling?”

“GOOD! I’m good, I – she’s not… Ugh nevermind,” Adora rushed, her heart racing and alarming the machine on her left, sending it beeps and buzzes and flashes worrying the nurse.

“She asked after you, you know.”

“She did?”

“Everyday, four times a day. I think Elizabeth at the reception stopped answering her calls seeing her phone number,” the nurse smiled fondly. “Young love is always sweet.”

Adora blushed furiously. That wasn’t even love – she didn’t think so. Not romantic at least.

_Or was it?_

She didn’t wonder that much after, as the nurse and doctors kept spinning in and out of her room with always the same boring questions.

It was decided that Adora was allowed to stay at home for the rest of her recovery, partly because she couldn’t afford to stay longer, and also because she only needed to be hydrated and keep her bottle of oxygen for a few days, she wasn’t in a critical situation.

Once again (and in that situation the other way round) Adora was stuck at home, Catra knocking on her door and texting her daily. And the blonde jock felt overwhelmed by how nurturing Catra could be under that careless attitude cover. Daily, the brunette insisted that Adora rubbed her chest with “vaporú”, or Vaporub as it turned out, supposed to soothe her and make her feel better. She didn’t believe the superpowers of it, but that meant making Catra happy so she agreed to smell like eucalyptus suppositories everyday (she hated it, but the girl’s smile was worth the pain). Catra nurturing also meant she would feed her patient, Adora being given what seemed to be restaurant food three times a day, except Catra did it all by herself. The food was comforting and warm, and somehow Adora didn’t get sick of plantains that far – which was a miracle given her new diet. Something about vitamins and making her stronger. Not that Adora cared much about her vitamin intake, handicapped by that Darth Vader breathing at that point.

But days passed and she felt better and better, and in a way closer to Catra. She wasn’t feverish anymore, and breathed better and better, only slightly hurting sometimes, but her sense of smell didn’t come back from the war so that meant she would keep being cared for by Catra, right?

Catra: so you still can’t smell anything? at all??

Adora: Nope. Nada.

Catra: jajajajaj veo que estas practicando tu español cariño

Adora: I have no idea what you just said but sure!

Catra: you’re about to suffer in spanish baby 😘

Adora: ???

And _oh_ , if Catra didn’t lie. Adora became her new lab rat, increasing the smell “reeducation” as the brunette called it. The classicals were brought up: freshly ground coffee beans, the steaming hot cup of coffee right under the blonde’s nose, – apparently – strong cologne another day, and _hell_ , Adora couldn’t smell those but she definitely cried when Catra heated a few habanero peppers in her tiny kitchen, making both girls cough with how tenacious the pungent smell was. But still, no idea of _how it smelled like._

It burned Adora’s nose for days, but she smiled fondly at the memory of Catra’s disappointed, pouty face, still crying a little as the pepper fumes were still very present.

A few days later, as Adora was scrolling down her phone on the couch waiting for her lunch to be ready, Catra kicked the door wide open and rushed to Adora’s kitchen, only to throw the searing pan away from the slow heat, using the entirety of her cuss words vocabulary in all the languages she knew that day. After the crimson and chestnut tornado finally stopped buzzing, the blonde’s crispy chicken thrown away through her window, the second of silence following sent jolts of apprehension through Adora’s spine.

Slowly, she removed her headphones and said “…Hey Catra. Are you okay?”

A pair of furious orbs laid down on Adora’s gaze. “Are you serious?!” Adora searched and tried to find a reason why Catra was so upset. She tried and couldn’t find a reason why. “You haven’t even noticed you were trying to kill yourself?!”

“...What?”

It seemed to take all of Catra’s inner strength not to slap Adora at this very moment, choosing to pinch the bridge of her nose instead. If she were magically a feline-being, Catra’s tail would swing ferociously back and forth, showing her annoyance.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong, do you?” Catra asked almost too faintly.

“Catra… I’m really trying to, but I don’t know what’s wrong. What did I do? How can I fix it?”

The Latina sighed, defeated. She rose the searing pan, revealing a half-melted handle and a _hole_ making its way down the center of the pan.

How long had this thing been burning? And Adora didn’t even realize it! She couldn’t smell shit, and she had her headphones on and music out loud, and that turned out to be a dangerous (if not life-threatening) experience. She could feel the blood running away from her limbs, her legs suddenly weak, and she would’ve needed to sit down if she hadn’t been on her couch already. Her own _stupidity_ made her ignore the basics of cooking and she ignored her food, favoring scrolling the bottomless Twitter timeline.

“Catra… Catra I’m sorry,” where did those tears come from? Was she a kid being yelled at? She was an adult goddammit! “I didn’t mean it I –”

“Eres una idiota,” Catra cut through Adora’s excuses with a sad voice. She put the pan in the kitchen sink and walked carefully in Adora’s direction. Adora stood up, the numbness in her legs replaced as fast by a discharge of adrenaline. Slowly, carefully, almost afraid to break her, Catra wrapped her arms around Adora, squeezing tight. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

If the situation wasn’t making feel Adora so guilty, she would melt into Catra’s firm embrace, her smaller physique matching Adora’s perfectly, Catra’s hot breath on her neck, sending shivers down the blonde’s spine. The intimacy and uncharacteristic display of emotion Catra provided made it all so rare and special.

But there was no room for that now.

She closed her eyes anyway, inhaling Catra’s scent, wishing she could get a grasp of it, in vain.

They stayed embracing each other for a moment, foreheads touching each other’s, Adora’s eyes closed. Catra ultimately broke the embrace and held Adora’s hand. The sudden and unexpected contact had Adora open her eyes wide, blushing at the contact.

“Okay, there’s no way I’m letting you on your own any longer. You,” and Catra put an emphasis pulling Adora’s hand to her place, “have to stay with me. Until you can smell things again.”

“You just want me to change Melog’s litter.”

“Not smelling is useful sometimes, but this is truly for your safety,” Catra smiled.

And Adora smiled back, because that meant her woman was relaxing. _Not your woman, focus!_

_Not yours… yet._

Catra led the way and opened the front door, revealing her messy-as-ever living room. “Bienvenida a casa, try not to send anything on fire.”

Adora chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed in your kitchen after today.”

“You’re right. Sorry about throwing a tantrum for that chicken by the way.”

“I guess you made it fly one last time,” Adora added.

Visibly hurt by the pun, Catra groaned. “Idiot.”

“Hey, maybe I’m an idiot but I’m not dumb.”

Catra’s wicked grin preceded a mouthed “debatable” and relaxed. Adora agreed with her, and giggled along with her neighbor. She liked to make her laugh, and if that meant making self-depreciating humor then she would do so.

Anything for the smile of the girl next door – the very same woman who half-forced Adora to moved in to take care of her.

  
  


What started as a very awkward apartment-sharing eventually became a new lifestyle for the two women. Adora had to get used to Catra’s routine, meaning she wasn’t awake until noon, she would cook pantless – much to Adora’s horror when hot oil would sizzle everywhere but Catra didn’t seem to mind – sing out loud the greatest emo 2000s hits under the shower, get drunk on Friday nights with her friends online (to “keep a semblance of schedule with this damned pandemic” was her excuse), pull on all-nighters when a paper was due the morning after (and “where’s the fun in planning things?” the brunette asked), and regret everything right after she clicked on the _send_ button.

Catra seemed to share some feline features, she was as silent walking in the apartment – scaring Adora on purpose at times – loved any meal chicken-based, enjoyed breaking things (and this was driving Adora so crazy she actually ended up buying plastic cups after the third set of drinking glasses) and seemed to sleep at least eighteen hours a day. She had very little patience when Adora was initiating physical contact with her (“you dropped this Catra”, “Hey,” she said grabbing the smaller woman’s shoulder “have you seen this cute video,”) but she could spend hours in comfortable silence with her calf on Adora’s leg.

Adora believed it was her way to show affection, and as little as it seemed, Adora was happy with it.

Slowly, new habits took place for the new roommates: Tortilla-Tuesday, when they would cook dinner based on the Latin-American crêpe (Adora noted she should _never_ say that in front of Catra), Series-Saturday watching Netflix together, leaving random post-its with karaoke lyrics and fill-in-the-blanks (And Adora couldn’t believe that Catra was _actually_ a Britney fan, but you never know what kind of secrets your neighbors can hide…).

When Catra had a nightmare about her shitty childhood, she would wake up in the middle of the night and snuggle with Adora sleeping on the couch.

Which was driving Adora crazy.

  
  


Mara kept annoying Adora with _how nice and cute_ Catra was on videocalls, and of course Adora agreed, but never in front of the girl she was sharing the apartment with. She obviously would get cocky over that, and that would makemaker her insufferable. Adora’s mom teased her about how gay her daughter was, choosing to move in with her crush before even confessing. She added teasingly this sounded like an overused trope in gay fan fiction, and next step would be one of the girls asking the other “let’s get married if we don’t get a partner by our thirties” but this would end up being the real deal.

Adora kept dismissing the thought, secretly hoping this would actually happen.

  
  


“Hey Adora,” Catra greeted the blonde on an afternoon.

“Mornin’ Catrabear,” Adora smirked.

The brunette dismissed the pet name with a signature eye roll. “Guess what.”

“You’re actually going to do the laundry?”

“In your dreams, hermosa.” Catra chuckled. “We’ve known each other for a year now.”

 _Damn._ “Already?”

“Time is meaningless in a pandemic and so are –”

“And so are pants. We know, Tarzan.”

“It’s not my fault this cloth was invented to make gringos suffer.”

“We probably deserve it, though.”

“Verda’ ‘Dora. Anyway, I wanted to celebrate this. You and me and Melog, booze, and food. Just like the good old days.”

“Do we have to wear actual clothes?”

“Depends on how you want to look like on my Instagram feed.”

“Yikes. I guess I’ll have to make an effort then.”

“All for the ‘gram...” Catra started,

“...Bitches love the ‘gram.” the blonde retorted with finger guns.

Both girls chuckled at the reference, in sync. “So…”

“It’s a date.” Adora smiled fondly, pretending she wasn’t blushing at all.

“Okay,” Catra answered, ignoring the rosy tones that covered her cheeks. “It’s a date.”

_A date_ … _Fuck._ Adora’s palm smacked her face, making a distinctive splat sound when both ends met. She was in too deep. “I mean – not _date_ date unless – okay, I’ll shut up.” Catra smirked at that, revealing her prominent canine, sharp as a fang, a single eyebrow raised. “Ugh, Catra stop!”

“I didn’t say anything,” she pointed. “You’re the one making a mess out of yourself.”

Adora only answered this affront by throwing a pillow on the brunette’s face. Catra easily dodged it with grace, like she’d done that hundreds of times before (and _maybe_ Adora was prone to pillow fights but that was irrelevant), before she added more seriously “We could have one of those, you know.”

Adora blinked, arm still mid-air. “A date? Like, you and me?”

Catra’s eyes rolled, and she crossed her arms. “No Adora, me and the landlord. Of course it would be you and me. You know… have dinner and cuddle or whatever.”

“…Why?” the blonde asked, dumbfounded. And oh boy, did she regret that brain fart as soon as she realized what she’d just said, Catra’s surprised frown and sudden stiffness proving how fucked up that was.

“You could have said no instead of –”

“Brain fart! Sorry!” Adora cut her off mid sentence. “Are you serious about that? The… Date?”

“...Yes, Adora. I… I like you okay? A lot.”

“Oh.” _Nice._ “I – I mean I’d love to have a date with you. But why me? And why now after all this time?”

It took Catra all the strength she had not to retort one of her signature caustic remarks. Instead she took a painstaking few seconds to breathe in and breathe out, eyes closed, much to Adora’s anxiety. “You haven’t noticed I’ve been flirting with you the whole year?”

“You what now?”

“Jesus,” Catra grumbled. “I thought I was obvious doing so.”

Adora, still dazed, didn’t even think to answer. She only gulped, suddenly _very aware_ of all the little things.

Catra being an absolute nightmare to deal with in the morning, until Adora prepared her a mug of coffee just the way she liked (a dash of milk, no sugar) turning that gremlin-like woman into an adorable cuddlebug, smiling all day.

Catra shamelessly flirting with Adora last Christmas, implying a night out full of promises and foodie spots if corona wasn’t their plus one on that year.

Catra holding her hand on Netflix nights, looking for any type of physical contact when they were silent together. The way she would fall asleep on Adora’s shoulders these nights, or pretend the horror movie would give her nightmares, so she asked to sleep with the blonde.

Catra, the sometimes selfish pain in the ass, who always let Adora have the last slice of pizza.

The eye contact, a heterochromatic emerald blue and golden hazel meeting Adora’s ceruleans, always too long to be a normal eye contact and too short to the blonde’s liking.

The wicked smiles, a cocky neighbor proud of her _terrible_ puns – and Adora meant it, they _really were terrible_ . She still hadn’t recovered from Catra’s last joke ( _Did you know the first French fries weren’t actually cooked in France? They were cook in Greece_ , she beamed), and Adora threatened “never again” that day – or even Catra’s habits changing to fit better to Adora’s own routine. Catra waking up earlier (never before 11AM, but she would always have coffee while Adora was having lunch, the blonde athlete still forbidden to approach the stove without the brunette’s supervision), trying new things (broccoli, she deeply hated it but smiled fondly at Adora making fun of her). Adora breaking Catra’s long silence whenever she was mad and ignoring the blonde by cracking open a bag of chips.

All the things Adora had been dreaming of, Catra provided as best as she could, in her own way.

The last piece of the puzzle finally fell into place.

“Holy shit, Catra.”

“Can you just stake me now? Cause that would be less mortifying than this conversation,” she begged, eyes focusing on the ceiling and the spider living its life there – baptized Tobey Maguire by the girls.

“…Okay, nerd,” Adora brushed past the modern gay reference. “Can you look at me? Please?”

The brunette turned her head but didn’t quite look at Adora. She preferred watching Adora’s overused gray sweatpants, scratching the back of her neck, like everytime she was nervous. And Catra seemed so little like this, head lowered and shoulders stiff, no smile illuminating her beautiful face.

“I’d love to have a date with you, but I have a question to ask you first.”

“What is it?”

“Can you ask me out if we’re currently in a lockdown?”

Catra cupped her face with her hands, defeated. “…Shut up. I revoke my question,” Catra complained. “No. You don’t start being too literal and all dadly on me.”

“Is this considered a _faux pa_ because I’m not one of them?” she raised a brow.

And Adora snorted, because despite Catra’s theatrical grunt and sudden faked-suffering, she couldn’t help but notice the woman’s smile.

And that was the most beautiful smile in the world, she thought.

“Let me check something before we set a date up,” the blonde pleaded, phone out.

“Pfft, you got a date already? Who do I gotta punch?” Catra scoffed.

Adora smiled at Catra’s bloodthirst. She swore she could’ve been a master general in the army in an alternate universe, and conquer the world. _Come on phone, don’t give up on me now,_ she pleaded to the object. She typed as fast as possible, looked at her screen, checked Catra’s eyes, turned back to her phone again. She’d secretly practiced for that very moment on one lonely morning with no Catra in sight. Adora cleared her throat. _Here goes nothing_. “Quieres ir a cenar conmigo Catra?” she asked, very unsure, and suddenly very embarrassed.

“Did you just ask me out in Spanish, Adora?” Catra chuckled fondly. “That’s ballsy, even for you.”

“What can I say? I love challenges, look at me hanging out with you everyday and still not giving up on my sanity.”

The brunette rolled her eyes and grinned. “Yes, ‘Dor. Let’s do this…”

“Together,” Adora added, intertwining her fingers with Catra’s.

Stuck in a building during a pandemic, with her hot neighbor nearby?

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> 12K words!! My record!! I wanna thank my friends, and my muse [rokumonshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokumonshi/pseuds/rokumonshi) for the prompt. Until next time friends <3
> 
> Small edit: neither English nor Spanish are my native languages so I hope both made sense 🙏
> 
> For translations:   
> "porfa" = por favor = please  
> "gringa" = non-native person/foreigner to hispanic countries (pejorative)  
> "cabrón" = bastard, son of a bitch  
> "pasteles en hoja con cerdo" = small cakes with pork wrapped in a banana leaf  
> "chicharrón" = pork cracklings  
> "Le gusta el chile" = Play of words chile as pepper but also means dick. Neither Catra nor Adora like one (or both 😏) of those.  
> "ron à la Catra" = rum Catra style  
> "Cariño" = sweetheart  
> “Me gusta cuando me hablas así Guapa!” = I like when you're talking to me like this Beautiful/good-looking one!  
> "Hermosa" = gorgeous
> 
> “¡No! ¡No! Te tengo – No te dejaré ir – ¿No lo entiendes? ¡Yo te amo! Siempre lo he hecho. Por favor esta vez – ¡Quédate! ¡Quédate Adora!” = "So please just this once, stay" confession in Latin Spanish. MY HEART.
> 
> "Bienvenida a casa" = Welcome home


End file.
